[The clock strikes the half-hour]

Ah, half the hour is past! 'twill all be past anon
O God, if thou wilt not have mercy on my soul
Yet for Christ's sake, whose blood hath ransom'd me
Impose some end to my incessant pain

Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years
A hundred thousand, and at last be sav'd!
O, no end is limited to damned souls!
Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul?

Or why is this immortal that thou hast?

Ah, Pythagoras' metempsychosis, were that true
This soul should fly from me, and I be chang'd
Unto some brutish beast!

All beasts are happy, for, when they die
Their souls are soon dissolv'd in elements

But mine must live still to be plagu'd in hell

Curs'd be the parents that engender'd me!
No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer
That hath depriv'd thee of the joys of heaven